When the Aster Flowers Bloom
by Lucyh95
Summary: Sam and Dean visit Jessica's grave a few days after the funeral.
1. chapter 1

I go up through the mowing field,

The headless aftermath,

Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,

Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,

The whir of sober birds

Up from the tangle of withered weeds

Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,

But a leaf that lingered brown,

Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,

Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth

By picking the faded blue

Of the last remaining aster flower

To carry again to you.

-A Late Walk by Robert Frost

000

 **When the Aster Flowers Bloom**

Sam stood before the gray headstone of the grave— _her_ _grave_. He hadn't seen it since the funeral a few days ago.

He swallowed, throat tight with tears that were floating too close under the surface.

Sam wanted to cry.

Even after a week, he still hadn't broken down—and that had surprised himself. But he just hadn't been able to let go. Because giving in and grieving, means she's really gone. _Forever_.

But the pressure in his head and chest were mounting. Every day it felt like there was less room for his lungs to expand, for his heart to beat.

And even he knew he couldn't go on like this. If he wanted to find Jessica's killer he had to be sharp and focused. And his brother needed him, needed him to watch his back.

So, he stood there, watching the grey headstone of the girl he loved so much.

The hot tears were making it difficult to read the engraved characters of her name—making it impossible to see her gorgeous face on the picture.

He swallowed again, saliva gathering in his mouth and swiped a hand over his cheeks.

His nose was running, too, and he swiped at it with his fist.

He let out a shuddering sigh and just stood there, not knowing what to do, but to stare.

"Sam?"

His brother's quiet voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

Dean's footsteps came forward until he was standing beside Sam.

Their shoulders did not touch.

Sam didn't look at his brother, but he felt Dean's gaze linger on him for a moment before his brother looked away.

"I wish we had brought something with us. Flowers or something. I mean..." Sam trailed off.

 _A beat_.

"We could, you know if you want to."

Dean let the words linger.

The silence continued to stretch out between them.

Sam felt himself unravel at the seams. The more he fought against his tears, the more they fought back to be released. And at last, they slipped down, one after another, and there was no holding them back anymore.

He let out a sob. The sound was harsh in the otherwise silence around him.

 _Damnit. Damn it all._

He felt Dean's arm come around his back and grip his arm, pressing Sam against him. And Sam didn't fight it anymore. He was done struggling.

He let his head thankfully fall on his brother's willing shoulder and cries.

The sadness rips itself out of him. Tears and snot covering his face, sobs tearing through his body.

Dean says nothing.

There is nothing to say—nothing to make it better.

Dean stands there and lets his brother mourn.

And Sam cries himself out.

000

His brother's shoulder shrugged softly underneath his damp cheek, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"You alright, Sam?" Dean's voice is a little scratchy.

Sam nods, not yet trusting himself to speak.

He lifts his head and pulls away, unfolding himself out of the embrace.

Sam turns away from his brother, hands rubbing across his face.

He makes a disapproving noise. _Ew, gross._ And wipes at the snot that's coating his upper lip and chin.

"You need this?"

He turns his head a little, not meeting his brother's eyes.

Dean's holding out a tissue.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam mumbles and takes it from him.

He turns away again and wipes his face clean.

A nudge at his shoulder has him turning his head again.

"Here, you need to drink."

Dean is holding out something again, this time a water bottle, cap already unscrewed.

Sam reaches for the water bottle and takes a sip. Then he downs the whole bottle when he notices how utterly thirsty he is.

When the bottle is empty, he crumples it and then stands there, folded plastic in one hand, staring into nothingness.

"You okay?"

Sam turns around. Dean is studying him.

"Yeah, I'm okay." And after a moment: "Thanks."

Sam tries to smile at him but doesn't quite succeed.

But Dean nods, clearly relieved.

His brother scrapes his throat, meeting Sam's gaze.

"We could bring flowers if you want to. Or, or something else."

Dean scratches his neck.

Sam looks away for a moment before looking back.

"Yeah, flowers, we can do that. I would like that. She-she loved flowers.

Sam smiled, eyes far away.

"She once planted aster flowers nearby our apartment. And when they bloomed that fall, they were so beautiful and colorful. You had to see her, Dean, she was so proud."

"I would have loved to see that, Sammy," Dean says quietly. And he smiles a soft smile at his little brother.

"Yeah," Sam breathes. "I wish you had seen it, too."

End

 **Hello :)**

 **I** **started writing this fic a day before going on vacation and had thought I would complete it once I was back home. But surprise :p I still found the time to write.**

 **I was searching through a long list of beautiful flowers to use for this fic and came across the aster flower.**

 **Common meanings of the aster flower:**

 **Patience**

 **Love of variety**

 **Elegance**

 **Daintiness**

 **Afterthought**

 **I love this flower and also thought its meanings are very beautiful.**

 **I also came across this beautiful poem 'A Late Walk' by Robert Frost.** **And chose to use it for this fic.**

 **One of the interpretations I came across: the narrator of this poem has come to knowledge of a death and now walks through the present world with this depressing reality in mind.**

 **Thought that was fitting for this fic.**

 **I really hope this is alright** **, tell me what you think :)**

 **Not beta'd, all the mistakes are mine.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was asleep even before Dean had started the car. Dean gave his little brother a short look before turning back to the windshield and pulling out of the parking spot.

Sam had cried himself into exhaustion.

Dean was relieved, Sam had finally let go of the iron grip on all the hurt and sadness inside. He hated to see his little brother in pain, but Sam couldn't keep it all bottled up all the time. It wasn't healthy.

Dean glanced again at his brother in the seat next to him. Sam was fast asleep. Face slack, mouth half open. He was _spent_.

Dean heaved a sigh. Finally, his brother got some more sleep. Dean really hoped that the nightmares would stay away. Sam desperately needed to rest.

They drove for about 20 minutes before Dean found a decent motel. They both needed to rest. And a good shower would be appreciated, too.

Luckily, Sam aroused enough to mostly use his own legs to get from the car to the motel.

Dean settled him down on the bed for a short moment to help him out of his jacket and his shoes. But the second he hit the pillow Sam was asleep again.

Dean covered his little brother under the sheets and stood back. He looked down on his sleeping brother and fondly pushed some hair out of the slack face.

He gave a sad smile before turning around to get some supplies from the car.

The first thing that Sam needed when he woke up was food and something to drink.

After getting everything he needed (including a whole new box of tissues), he settled down in a chair and watched over his sleeping brother.

000

Sam roused around 5 pm. His groggy mind slowly catching up with the events of this morning. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tingle of embarrassment that ran through him for a moment before being replaced with the nowadays never-ending heavy sorrow that pulled at his whole being—taking up all the space—suffocating him.

 _Jess_.

He let out a shuddering breath.

Then, a soft snoring caught his ears and he turned his head toward the source.

Dean was sitting in a chair next to the bed; curled up in an awkward position that certainly was not comfortable.

His brother had to be exhausted, too. Dean had been looking out for him—night after night—waking him up from the terrible nightmares. And Dean was _always_ there.

Sam swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat and rubbed a hand over his face and got out of bed.

000

A sound.

Dean opened his heavy eyes. A blurry motel room came in sight.

 _Huh, I fell asleep._

Then in an instant, he was awake.

 _Sam_.

The bed that Sam had been sleeping in was vacant. Sheets rumpled.

"Dean, you awake?"

Dean turned his head.

Sam was standing a few feet away, a steaming mug in his hand.

His brother came forward until he was standing next to Dean and held out the mug to him.

"Here, I just made coffee."

Dean took the mug and Sam smiled a small smile at him and settled down on the edge of the bed, fidgeting a little.

Dean took a sip, the hot liquid warming his stomach.

A silence stretched out between them until Dean decided it had lasted long enough.

He scraped his throat.

"How did you sleep?"

Sam looked up.

"No dreams?"

Sam shook his head.

Dean sighed. "That's good."

Sam gave a little nod and looked away.

A short moment of silence followed.

"Dean?" Sam called, and he looked back at his brother.

He took a deep breath. "Thanks."

Dean shrugged. "No problem, Sam," he said honestly.

Sam nodded again, jaw working a little.

Dean rubbed a hand over his tired face.

"Why don't you take a shower?"

Sam nodded. He stood up and walked over to where his bag was sitting on a chair to pull out some fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.

The door closed behind him with a click.

Dean sighed and stood up. Sam needed something to eat, soon.

A real dinner would probably just end up in the trash. Sam's appetite was nearly non-existence these days, so Dean stuck to crackers and sandwiches.

He put everything on the table including a mug of hot tea.

15 minutes later, Sam emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and hair still dripping.

After getting some really needed sleep and a shower, Sam looked much better. However, the dark circles under his eyes were still there, and they would be for a while, Dean feared.

Sam's face fell immediately after getting sight of the table and its contents. And the expected protest followed.

"Dean, I'm not really hungry right now."

Dean sighed inwardly. He knew Sam was not hungry these days, and he couldn't blame him. But the kid needed to eat more. He already had lost weight.

"Sam, you really need to eat something. When was the last time you ate today?"

Sam looked away.

"Right, I thought so. Come, sit down. I've got you some tea, too."

And Sam sat down—grudgingly—but he sat down.

Dean sat down opposite him and shoved a sandwich in his direction.

"Here, eat." And he pointed to the mug. "And drink, too."

To Dean's relief, Sam ate, taking small bites. And he managed to eat 3/4 of the sandwich.

Next, they sat there in silence, nursing their mugs. Sam tea, and Dean coffee.

"Tomorrow we could go to the store, see if they have the flowers you want."

Sam looked up from his mug he was staring at.

"Yeah, okay."

His voice cracked a little on the sentence.

"You want me to come with you when visiting her grave again?"

Sam looked away for a short moment before looking back at Dean.

"Yeah."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

"You should try to get some more sleep."

Sam wanted to protest but a yawn made its appearance.

He ran a hand through his still somewhat damp hair and sighed.

"Okay. I will try."

Sam got up and made his way to the bed and climbed into it.

He glanced aside when a chair squeaked next to him.

Dean settled down in the chair next to the bed where he had been sleeping in, a mug of coffee in his hand.

"Dean—"

"Go to sleep, Sam. I'll stay here."

Sam wanted to protest more, but another yawn made its appearance.

He didn't want to give in, but he was exhausted and bone-weary tired. _He was completely spent._

And slowly, despite his best efforts to stay awake, his aching eyes fell shut and sleep took him over once again.

And to unhearing ears, into the now shadowed room, Dean whispered:

"Sleep well, Sammy."

* * *

Hello :)

I'm back from vacation and back to more writing :P

I hope you enjoyed this second part. All the mistakes are mine.

P.S. I'm thinking about writing a third part with Sam and Dean buying flowers for Jessica's grave.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam slept on that whole night without waking from his soundless sleep. The nightmares and terrors for once hadn't chased him into dreamland.

After Dean got him to eat some crackers, followed by a mug of coffee, they got ready to go to the little flower shop a few blocks away.

Sam was already standing by the door, fidgeting nervously, while Dean was still searching for some clean socks amidst all the dirty ones. He grimaced, (they really needed to get to doing laundry, soon).

"Dean, are you almost ready?" came Sam's faint voice.

And Dean gave up on finding clean socks.

Sam was restless, and to his relief, they finally got out the motel room and were then on their way to buy flowers.

Flowers, for _her_.

He felt more rested than he had in days. Finally a night without any interruptions—only dreamless sleep. No nightmares that left him waking up screaming and shaking, drenched in sweat.

Sam glanced at his brother who was walking next to him; Dean looked a little more rested, too.

(Little did he know it was not only the undisturbed night's sleep that has Dean looking more rested).

Sam lifted his face and looked up at the grey morning sky. He sighed. The stormy clouds promised one thing: rain.

Their walk was silent. And soon, the first drops showered down on them, making small, wet circles on the pavement.

Sam shivered a little and he buried himself a little deeper into his jacket against the crisp November wind that blew.

Luckily, they soon arrived at the little flower shop.

"Wait here," Sam told his brother. Dean nodded and leaned against the brick wall of the shop, crossing his arms, sheltering under the pent.

Sam swallowed and pushed against the door and stepped inside, a jingle of a bell making his entry known.

The sweet smell of flowers wafted through the air, and everywhere he looked were all kinds of plants and flowers, stacked on shelves and standing in buckets.

"Can I help you, dear?"

When Sam turned around, a little old lady was standing before him, wiping her hands on a faded green apron.

"Ehh." Suddenly his throat was tight and his eyes hot.

She tilted her head.

He swiped a hand over his eyes. "I'm looking for a bouquet of asters." Sam managed to croak out.

0000

He stood before her grave again, a small bouquet of beautiful white and purple asters in his hand. Dean was standing next to him.

Sam swallowed, tears wanting to make an appearance again.

"This is for you, Jess," he whispered, and he carefully laid down the small bouquet.

Sam stood back, and at that exact moment, the sun decided to break through the rain clouds; bathing everything in a watery golden glow and making the droplets sparkle.

Sam sucked in a breath; it was a beautiful sight.

He felt Dean laying down a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

Sam's breath hitched, but he bit down on whatever wanted to crawl up and out of his chest.

Dean's hand squeezed harder, reassuring him.

"They are beautiful flowers, Sammy. She would have loved them."

Sam nodded tightly.

And then they stood there, in silence, the sunlight causing everything to sparkle brilliantly.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean said softly.

"Yeah," Sam whispered back hoarsely, "me too."

* * *

Hello :)

Here is the third part of this story (and probably the last part, but who knows :P )

All the mistakes are mine.

Hope you enjoyed!


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